Pining in Winter
by indijoe
Summary: When Al-Cid Margrace and his assistant venture to Mt. Bur Omisace, they meet the Lady Ashe. Al-Cid and Ashe seem to start off on the wrong foot, but Al-Cid'a assistant Arlie takes a liking to Ashelia.
1. Chapter 1

"I do not suppose this is something you might not reconsider?"

Master Margrace's political dealings had brought me to this incredible place, Mt. Bur-Omisace, and to the Gran Kilitas. I was fairly baffled by recent events, though to some extent I was involved - I do not have the mind for politics Master Margrace does. I remained silent as he spoke with the young Archadian lord, Larsa, and...

Who was that?

He handed me his glasses as he spoke to her, and dutifully I affixed them to my shirt, but I thought only of the lovely stranger before my master and I. Even in all of his travels and negotiations, this woman remained unknown to me. How could it be so?

"Al- Cid Margrace, at your service. To think I stand before the Lady Ashe. It is truly an honor." Master Margrace dropped to one knee and kissed her hand. I felt a strange hot flash climb up my back, and a moment of irrational anger. The stranger, apparently Lady Ashe, was fairly shocked at his display. I remained silent, as was my duty.

"I see it is true after all. Ah, stunning is Dalmasca's desert bloom," crooned Master Margrace.

Those words stung me. I wanted to shout, to stop him from speaking to her that way - it was not his place, not anyone's place. I did not want him to touch her, and I knew not why.

The Gran Kilitas interrupted this grim scene to speak on matters of politics, which I attempted to listen to. Ultimately, as per usual, I became far too confused and instead took a moment to survey the Lady. She spoke, I know, of resisting a coming war, but why she was involved I could not hope to guess.

Ah! A moment of insight. The Lady Ashe was, in fact, that sorrowful Dalmascan princess reported to have died by her own hand. I now understood, and silently applauded her clever gambit. She may not have noticed, for I fear my silent applause was likely a meaningful flutter of the eyelashes. I do try to be expressive, but it is not becoming of me.

"...I fear it would only worsen our current situation," finished Master Margrace, his concern apparent in his voice.

"Because I am powerless to help," said the Lady Ashe, and in her voice was anger and despair. Her words made my heart sink - this suffering of hers was mine to bear, too, it seemed, for in some way I had bonded with the fair Lady.

They spoke again of politics, and I paid little attention, for as important as these matters were I was all but useless. In politics, there is little room for a woman such as me, who rarely even speaks. My thoughts turned instead to Master Margrace's conversation with the Lady, and try as I might they would not stray from that path. I thought of his expression upon seeing her, upon speaking to her...it pained me. I did not want this affection he had toward the Lady to exist.


	2. Chapter 2

That night we returned to our quarters in a nearby inn. When I had begun working for Master Margrace, I was surprised at his willingness to mingle with poor folk, for it was not something I thought common of royalty. But Master Margrace is a kinder man than I had supposed, though enigmatic in a way. I believe we are much the same in that respect.

He was quite exhausted, and instead of speaking to me of his thoughts on the day (as he was wont to do at night, for I speak little), he slept nearly immediately. Upon the room's other bed, I attempted to do the same, but could not.

The Lady plagued me. Her light hair, her serious eyes, the unsmiling, delicate lips...I could not bear to think of her, for it rent my heart in two. I had a serious problem, I knew, in that this was no ordinary admiration. No, unfortunately, I was feeling something far more serious.

But who could not? She was a brave and strong woman, and intelligent enough to understand the world of politics as I could not. She had the nerve to speak and speak freely, and I did not. She had the beauty of freshly-fallen snow, of ice glimmering in the sun, of a frozen sky. Hers was not a beauty of summer, and indeed I marveled that in Dalmasca she did not melt. Perhaps it was her steely disposition which made her seem such a queen of ice.

I wondered idly, knowing the answer, if she had noticed me at all. I imagined her strong voice uttering my name, joyful at seeing me and me alone. "Arlie!" And I felt my heart swell. I wished sincerely I had not had that thought. I wished sincerely I could speak as she did, with all her strength and nerve...but I could hardly bring myself to speak in front of Master Margrace. I so desperately wanted to be like the Lady...more accurately, I so desperately wanted the Lady. I supposed if I never practiced saying her name I could never speak to her, and, well, Master Margrace was asleep...

"Ashe," I whispered, and from the other bed I heard laughter! Master Margrace was awake! I rolled over and pretended to be asleep, but it was no use.

"So, it seems you too desire Dalmasca's sweet bloom," laughed Master Margrace. I had been his assistant for many years, and it seemed often he knew me better than I did myself. It was rare, though, he mustered enough interest to tease me. "Go to sleep, Arlie. Perhaps in your dreams she may, too, whisper your name to the stars!"


End file.
